


Toaster Overlord

by SilverSkiesAtMidnight



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Humor, Robots, Steve is so very done, Tony is quite the inventor, look guys its late and I'm tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 23:42:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8467600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverSkiesAtMidnight/pseuds/SilverSkiesAtMidnight
Summary: Tony has a habit of inventing things in the middle of the night. Sometimes it's awesome. Sometimes Steve would rather go back to WWII, when talking toasters were definitely never an issue he had to deal with.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's really late at night, I'm really tired, and for God's sake I can't call myself a writer if I don't actually. You know. Write things. I'd like to make this longer at some point, but for now I just need to get something posted to try and kick my brain into making more things. Kudos and reviews are deeply, deeply appreciated.

“Tony.”  
“Look, it was reeaally late last night, and I tried to make myself a bagel and it got burnt, and then, you know, I had one of my late-night ideas, and things just kinda spiraled.”  
“ _Tony what the fuck._ ”  
The toaster on the table perks up curiously.  
“Fuck?”  
Steve stares at the tiny machine.  
It wobbles slightly on its small, springy, nubs of legs.  
“Fuck.” It says, sounding vaguely pleased with itself. It turns, and totters off towards the other side of the kitchen table, murmuring its new word to itself as it goes.  
“So look, it’s not exactly Jarvis, it needs a little work, but when I’m done, this baby will be able to make bagels like you wouldn’t believe.”  
Jarvis chimes in. “You’re correct, sir, it is hardly my equal.” He manages to sound quite disdainful, not a tone Steve had once imagined he’d hear a robot use.  
The toaster continues to quietly mutter curse words to itself as it cheerfully investigates the edge of the counter it’s been placed on, peering down at the floor. Tony has a thought, and as is his habit, fails to keep it to himself.  
“I could make it a Roomba buddy. I bet it’d like that.”  
If Steve’s glare is anything to go by, he is entirely unamused.  
“I could make _you_ a Roomba buddy?”  
“You’re an ass.”  
“But a generous ass. I’m putting it on your Christmas list.”  
“Tony, if you get me anything that speaks, moves, or thinks, I’m throwing you off the top of this tower.”  
“I bet you wouldn’t be in such a bad mood if you had a talking Roomba.”  
“Maybe I’ll throw you off anyway. That would definitely brighten my mood.”  
“Shh, don’t speak of such violence. There are pure and innocent ears in the room.”  
The toaster tires of its examination of the room. It swivels on its stumpy legs, and practically skips back to Steve. It peers up at him, and in a sweet, curious voice asks:  
“Fuck?”  
Tony makes a mental note of the Steve glare times two. It’s a new one, very memorable.


End file.
